


Never Have to See the Day Again

by Honeybee_Apocalypse



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, M/M, More like "wishing your boyfriend would drive you insane", Suicidal Ideations (Kind Of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeybee_Apocalypse/pseuds/Honeybee_Apocalypse
Summary: ... a miracle, if only to feel how Michael's fingers brushed his scalp, down the back of his neck, and oh- this soft insanity. A tugging at his mind, a lack of feeling in his fingertips, a buzz against his skin, a scrambling of thought, the gentle insisting that he should simply let himself be unraveled. Careful, it would be, like plastic detangled from the throat of an animal. A mercy, practically. Not necessarily quick, certainly not painless, but... a relief. Weightless existence. Life without worry, without the burden of knowing and trying, failing, to understand.Title from After Hours by The Velvet Underground, idea from my remarkable friend.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	Never Have to See the Day Again

After Hours 

Gerry was half-asleep. Partially spiral-induced, but some of it was more likely his own brand of exhaustion, one that involved too much coffee and desperate pinches to his forearms to stay awake, pale skin and shaky hands. 

Michael wasn't sure if it liked to see Gerry like this. Calmer, sure, but... vulnerable. Curled up, clinging tightly to Michael's jumper, half-mumbling words that made no sense, Michael did enjoy that bit. Fed off of it, unwillingly, the confusion. Concern was fleeting and secondary, and Michael opted to comb hands through his hair and try to ignore just how much Gerry leaned into the touch- starved for it.

They were in the corridors, nestled in a corner between impossible walls that held them just fine. Gerry managed to stay awake, a miracle, if only to feel how Michael's fingers brushed his scalp, down the back of his neck, and oh- this soft insanity. A tugging at his mind, a lack of feeling in his fingertips, a buzz against his skin, a scrambling of thought, the gentle insisting that he should simply let himself be unraveled. Careful, it would be, like plastic detangled from the throat of an animal. A mercy, practically. Not necessarily quick, certainly not painless, but... a relief. Weightless existence. Life without worry, without the burden of knowing and trying, failing, to understand. 

It would be so simple. To let Michael pick him apart, bit by bit, until he didn't hurt anymore. 

"Michael?" He thought the name more than he spoke it, but Michael responded with a pleasant hum and a grin.

"Yes?" 

"Can I... hm, can I stay here?" It came out more blunt than he expected. 

"In the... hallways?" 

"Where else?" 

"Of course not, my sweet, it will drive you mad," He laughed, cut it short.

"I know," He replied flatly. 

"Oh, dear. No," He knew well then that Gerry wasn't joking, knew full well what he wanted. 

"Why not? I don't think I'd mind- if you- y'know. I'm tired of this. Of hurting. Of being... scared. And if I lose a bit of myself along with that... hurt, I certainly don't mind." 

"Gerry..." 

"We can abandon the rest of the world and just... rest."   
It was tempting. So fucking tempting, to just... hold him, let him fall apart and then take what was left of him and love him in the reckless way only they would be able. Sloppy and messy and perfect as anything.   
But no. There was no telling how much of Gerry would be lost, what damage it would do, how much it would hurt. No. Gerry was strong, and didn't need to go mad to bear the world. Some grand sacrifice and for what? Peace of mind? Michael couldn't allow that. 

"Oh, my little light. I fear you've been in here far too long already. Come, now, let us get you home." 

"No, no, I can't- I can't go back, everything's too much out there and I don't-" 

"Gerry," Michael slid hands under him and raised him off of the floor, met only with weak mumbled protests. "You are so strong, my flame, and- and I cannot bear to take that from you." 

"I'm so tired." 

"Then sleep."

"Not that sort of tired. I'm tired of... being. Like this.  
Being human and fragile and broken." 

"I know, dear, truly. But I'm not losing you. You cannot simply give up," Michael sighed, opened a door, that led back to Gerry's apartment. "And what's more, you're not broken. There's so such thing." 

"Mm, no, don't make me stay there- Michael, please-" 

"Shh," Michael set him down on his bed, pressed a dry kiss to his forehead, hovering next to him, as he drifted between stages of unconsciousness. 

"Come here," Gerry scrabbled for his sleeve and dragged him closer, until Michael laid next to him, and it was odd and their limbs tangled together as Gerry drifted off into blissful nothingness, only Michael's fingers and a faint whispering. 

"I love you," Michael said, before he fell asleep, and Gerry didn't have the time to say it back, but he thought it. And maybe that would be enough, and maybe it wouldn't be, but either way, it was the reality of their existence, and they had to bear it, no matter how heavy, how painful. 

And it was- heavy. And painful. Agonizing, certainly, but they didn't have to suffer it alone. Never again, at least.


End file.
